The Wake of the Storm
by Fleur the First
Summary: Two days after Voldemort's defeat Harry experiences a storm like no other. Not only is wet, loud, and thought-provoking, but it leads him to none other than Ginny Weasley.


**The Wake of the Storm**

**Author's Notes**: This is to compensate for the lack of the new story I promised. However, the first chapter is almost done, so the wait won't be that much longer. I changed the plot that I introduced at the end of KTG as well: it's become one giant H/G exploit. 

I wrote this during a thunderstorm and didn't have the heart to change it for fear of ruining the mood I was going for. If it's awful, I extend my deepest regrets. 

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter. You probably don't either.  

***

Crack… 

The sound of the thunder woke Harry instantly, causing him to sit up gasping, unable to breathe properly. He opened his eyes hurriedly, and after a moment of confusion, managed to locate his glasses and place them on the bridge of his nose.

Bright orange walls greeted him. 

Harry groaned and fell back on to the bed, angry with himself for acting like a child. Outside lightning flashed, illuminating the room. It suddenly seemed wrong of him to be in Ron's room. The tiny space was filled with cheerfulness and fond memories, no place for a cold-hearted killer. Harry looked down at his hands and clenched them into fists; those were the hands he had killed Voldemort with. 

Harry quietly got up and left the room, not wanting to disturb any of the other Weasleys. Ron wasn't in the room with him…Ron was at St. Mungo's. He'd been badly injured while helping Harry in the final battle, and though recovering, he was in no shape to be home so soon. Harry's heart ached at the thought.

As he climbed down the Weasley's old wooden stairs, Harry couldn't help but reflect. It had been only two days ago that he had defeated Voldemort, but those two days felt like an eternity. He constantly relived the battle, and each time it was fresh and raw. The image of Ron falling to the ground as Voldemort waved his wand, and Hermione covering him with her body, were enough to make him shudder. Luckily, both his friends were alive and well, for it was right before the killing spell hit them that Harry had thrown himself on the Dark Lord. Harry had summoned every bit of magic he had in his body, calling it all to his wand, which he had plunged into the creature's flesh. 

Yes, Voldemort wad dead, but Harry would never be rid of him. For now he had two scars: the lighting bolt on his forehead, and a six-pointed star on the palm of his hand. The young man—he would never be referred to as a boy after that—looked down at the star and sighed. 

When he got to the kitchen, Harry couldn't help but notice that the door was open a bit. Suspicious, he gripped his wand tightly (it would always be stained by Voldemort's blood, which had not been red, but ebony) and approached the threshold. What he found, however, was much stranger than the evil he'd been expecting.

Ginny Weasley stood in the rain, her face pointed towards the sky and a pair of flimsy white robes matted to her body. Her hair hung down her back in long snake-like pieces, and its color was only revealed when the lightning flashed above her. Harry watched her for a moment, unsure as to how he should respond. Her back was to him, perhaps he could just walk away…

He didn't want to. Indeed, he was longing for a human to talk to. Though Hedwig had been a comfort the past two days, she wasn't the same as somebody who could talk back.

          "Ginny, what are you doing?" Harry finally croaked, running outside to join her. 

She didn't answer immediately, and seemed totally unperturbed by his intrusion. "I wanted to _feel_." 

Her answer shocked him, because, deep down, so did he. Another roll of thunder sounded in the distance.

          "I always loved thunder storms," Ginny whispered, still not turning around to face her companion. "Ron and I used to sit out on the porch and watch them."

          "I'm so sorry, Ginny." Harry couldn't help but apologize, it was his fault Ron wasn't there with her tonight.

Ginny finally faced him, and Harry thought he saw tears mingled with the rain. "Harry, Ron did what he had to do, and I bet, if you gave him the option, he would do it all again. He'd do more."

Harry only looked up at the storm clouds, which shone silver in the black night.

          "Besides, I've always wanted to watch one with you," Ginny said.

          "You shouldn't. Not with me." 

          "Why ever not?" Harry blinked at her question, wondering when it was that Ginny had changed. She had once been shy, quiet, and in complete adoration of him. Now she was voicing her opinions, calm, and not at all affected by him. It was nice to have somebody who didn't think of him as a glorious hero.

          "Because I've killed, Ginny. Not just Voldemort, but normal people, just like you and me."

          "I would hardly call Death Eaters normal people," Ginny scoffed. "You weren't ending lives, you were saving them."

          "Ginny, you should get away from the past, move on. You can't do that with me by your side…watching a thunderstorm." Harry gulped, he'd only added that last bit as an afterthought.

          "Not everybody can escape the past, Harry, Merlin knows I've tried. For years after Tom I tried to forget, but I couldn't. It wasn't until I accepted what had happened, and made it part of me, that I was able to think of myself as whole again."

Harry felt guilty. "I should have noticed you needed help, after your first year."

Ginny smiled at him, and the droplets of water on her mouth made it glimmer. "It was better I did it myself. I was the only one who could fix me."

"Perhaps I need fixing as well," Harry said, his voice much calmer than it had been when he'd first come outside. 

In response, Ginny wrapped an arm around him. Harry felt the warmth of her skin though his T-shirt, but all it did was make him shiver. "Are you cold?" he asked Ginny.

          "No, not at all. I just thought…" She began to remove her arm. However, before she could do so totally, Harry had grabbed it again.

          "Don't." 

Ginny couldn't help but notice the desperation in his eyes. He looked so vulnerable then, like the eleven-year-old she had first known him as.

They stood that way for a long time, neither wanting to admit that it was probably a bad idea to stand so long in such a downpour. Finally the sun began to rise, but by that time Harry and Ginny were sitting on the Burrow's wooden steps, still holding on to each other. "I think we're now thoroughly sleep deprived," Ginny mumbled as she saw Harry's head nod.

          "Huh?" Harry responded intelligently. A moment later he was asleep, his head on Ginny's shoulder. She couldn't help but smile at that, after all, usually the damsel fell asleep in her loved one's arms. In her case, the loved one was using _her_ as a pillow.

With a shock, Ginny realized that Harry _was_ her loved one, and not in a brotherly fashion. 

          "Oh, dear," she said to nobody in particular. Harry woke with a start.

          "Whasamatta?" 

Though she felt guilty for waking Harry—if anybody needed sleep, it was him—Ginny's shoulder welcomed circulation. Ginny bit her lip and stared at Harry hard and long. Finally, she said, "Could I just make sure of something?"

Harry shrugged. "Go ahead." He started to disentangle himself, thinking she was going back into the house. He didn't get far, though, for at that instant Ginny thrust herself further into his arms, closing the gap between them. She then took his chin in her hand and kissed him soundly. When they parted, both were a bit out of breath.

          "I guess you're a dominant kisser," Harry said, still in shock.

          "Is that okay?" Ginny all of a sudden felt very conscious of her bedraggled state, her frizzy hair, and the fact that her clothes were a muddy mess. Harry was as well, but his opinion was quite a bit kinder.

          "It's perfect," he said.

          "Oh…" Ginny blushed, reverting to her eleven-year-old self.

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Ginny, I may not be very easy to be with for awhile. I'd like it if—if…we were…more than friends. But I'd totally understand if you want to wait awhile before going ahead with anything."

          "Harry, you prat, I've been waiting since I was ten!" With that Ginny kissed him again, not in the least concerned about her state of appearance.

***

When Mrs. Weasley looked out the window early that morning, she was quite surprised to see her daughter in the arms of Harry Potter. Before that moment she had considered a part of her life to have ended; her children were grown, Voldemort was gone for good, and the war which had caused so much destruction was over. 

She watched the two for a moment, and as she did, realization hit her. "I suppose it's really the beginning," she said to nobody in particular. However, anybody who might have been there would have probably agreed. 

The Beginning 

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A.N.: Reviews of all size and shape are extremely welcome!


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